Max's Manifestations
by Blondie1137
Summary: What happened when Max heard Liesel's voice from the desolation that surrounded him? This is the story from Max's perspective of Liesel's attempt to rescue him from the sea of Jews. One-shot.*I do not own the characters- I only own the story.*


Max's Manifestations 

I saw her. There was something different about this time. It felt more painful than the usual manifestations. Another hallucination, this one was too selfish to linger on. The fog of guilt overwhelmed me. I had turned my back on my family for the second time. She had saved me once and that was more than enough. The sun's warmth must have been tactile but I couldn't feel it.

The light was overtaken by the shadows of footsteps. One, two, three, four. The stomp of feet and the panting amongst the cloud of recycled air. My left leg buckled, sending me stumbling into the person closest to me. I had just escaped knocking us both backward into the staggering crowd.

"Max," she said.

Her voice, another hallucination, I began walking but there was something that slowed me. The voice sounded more real than ever before. I was surely dreaming.

"There was once a strange, small man, but there was a word shaker too."

The words formed shackles around my ankles sending a shooting pain through my spine. A wave of guilt overcame me. She stood before me, three dimensional, so much more than the walls of my weak mind could conjure, she was real.

I stopped and stared into her dark, brown eyes. Dangerous eyes that belied the power within them. The warmth, the beauty and yes, even the destruction. She had power; her words demanded an audience, and would not be disappointed. For when she spoke, everyone listened, especially me.

"Is it really you? The young man asked. "Is it from your cheek that I took the seed?"

I looked up at the stray clouds. The sun struggled free, fighting amongst the small patches of grey. Beams of light showered down from the blue sky, stretching as far as I could see. The beauty of the day reminded me of the weather reports she had once given me. When she was present, life was easier. As even just her gentle touch revived me.

I held her hand to my face and wept into her fingers. I was so selfish; she alleviated my pain and shouldered some of it herself. Saved me from the darkness of my own heart and the voices of my past. I put her in jeopardy, everything, her whole life. I had nothing to give her. It was her birthday. She embraced me and gave me something in return for nothing, so uncharacteristic of a German child.

"Max," she wept. She was dragged away.

The whip came down and screamed as it bit into my face. I fell to the ground with a smack. He was smirking down at me; soon, they were all standing over me, looking down with contempt on their faces. Always stood over.

I thought back to that fight, fight number five. I was down four losses to Walter Kugler. Determination and uncertainty ruled the fight. I was down, twice, but I refused to give into the previous outcome. I shook off the dust and waited for my opportunity. A blind moment, and a sequence of strategic punches, and he hit the ground. I had won the fight. It fuelled my hope for the future.

The crack of the whip tested the fortitude within me. This was what I had been training for. Another push-up in the basement; the crowd held fistfuls of betting money in anticipation. I had to get up. Words spewed out of the soldier's mouth, the Führer's words. I had to force myself up. I would not let him win.

They all sacrificed too much for me; my cousins, my mother, Walter, Hans, Rosa and Liesel. Their safety and lives. Remorse loomed above my thoughts. I gave them nothing back. Strength pulsed through my body. Reaching my arms, my legs, and my heart. It pumped throughout my body and gave me the strength to lift my leg, one limb at a time, until I dragged myself up. I stood in that raw state, scarred but still alive, and looked up above the desolation that moved all around me, the Jews who had let their hopes burn out. I vowed that I would never simply accept my fate; I would punch death in the face when it came. The bittersweetness of uncertainty I so used to love. I turned to look for Liesel but another person greeted me. A soldier with a familiar smirk on his face. I was hurled forward with an agonising push as I marched on.

-This is a memoir I wrote last year. I really hope you all like it! Please let me know what you think. :) -


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